


Medication for pain

by Howling_Harpy



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, Haguenau, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Outsider, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/pseuds/Howling_Harpy
Summary: Lipton is sick, and Captain Speirs' reputation is under threat.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Medication for pain

**Author's Note:**

> People just keep giving me ideas, and apparently I have a weak spot for sickfics and caretaking. 
> 
> This is just sickfic fluff and I have nothing to say to defend myself. Enjoy, leave kudos and comments and so forth. Enjoy your end of the year~
> 
> *
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors' portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series and means no disrespect.

The company CP had become a rather uncomfortable place to be, but then again Luz was there to man the radio and look after the supplies, so he always had a reason to excuse himself from the worst places. Not that many things could be worse than what they had just left behind them, but Luz preferred not to dwell in that but kept counting bubble gum packages and chocolate bars and cans of various goods. 

He was grateful for the houses in Haguenau. It was certainly a comfort to be indoors again, and the feel of dry and warm places they had all forgotten made all of the houses feel cosy as long as they had a roof and most of the walls.

Being stationed at the CP gave him an opportunity to look after Lipton too. Somewhere on the road all the pressure and cold from Bastogne had finally caught up with the First Sergeant, and he had succumbed to fever and a terrifying rattling cough. 

Pneumonia, the regimental doctor had concluded and recommended Lipton he’d be evacuated, which he had stubbornly turned down. Luz hadn’t been surprised and he hadn’t made a comment to Lipton about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry or feel comfort in looking after his friend. 

Luz had just been relieved from radio duty and he was making his way out without hurry, planning to catch some rest in the billet, when he was all but ambushed by the angry Captain Speirs. 

Luz startled when the man jumped from around the corner in front of his and chased him against the wall, a furious look in his eyes that was now focused on Luz.

“Sir,” Luz acknowledged even if on guard.

“Sergeant,” Speirs barked into his face, “where’s First Sergeant Lipton?”

“Uh, on the couch. …Last I saw him,” Luz answered, but at the same time realized he didn’t exactly know. Speirs must have checked the couch and was now angrily looking for his missing First, so Luz was already behind.

“No, he’s not,” Speirs hissed through gritted teeth, his jaw squared as he straightened up. “You were supposed to watch him! How am I supposed to find him?!”

Well that was unfair. Watching Lipton definitely wasn’t Luz’s duty, the radio was, and besides, Lipton was ill so Speirs shouldn’t have had any business with him. “He must have left to take care of something, sir,” Luz supplied, swallowing the protest of the unfairness towards him. Unfairness towards Lipton he however couldn’t overlook. “Sir, First Sergeant is sick. If you have a task, someone else should – “

“I know he’s sick goddammit,” Speirs snarled and waved his hand impatiently. He was already losing interest in Luz and was turning away, about to try some other place or other poor soldier no doubt, “he’s supposed to stay on the couch and rest, not run around on some stupid, overstated feel of duty.”

“Oh,” Luz said out loud without realizing, suddenly understanding. 

Speirs didn’t hear him, because the captain was storming out of the building already. Luz waited until the coast was clear before leaving for the billet.

After Luz had taken a nap and gotten some chow to eat he came back to the CP to inventory the new supply drop. A tall pile of boxes waited for him there and he suspected they would keep him busy for the rest of the day.

He was looking for a pen when Captain Speirs came down the stairs two at the time and strolled past Luz without paying him a single glance. He was carrying several blankets under his arm, and out of curiosity Luz followed him to peek into the main hall and the couch that was once again occupied. 

It was surreal how small Lipton could look while lounging on a couch, propped up by pillows and wrapped in several blankets. From the doorway Luz had a view of the back of the couch and of Lipton only from shoulders up, but that was enough to see his pale, feverishly flushed face and how his hair was plastered on his forehead with sweat. 

He looked miserable as his gaze followed Speirs, who strolled into the room and dumped two more blankets on him.

“Sir –” Lipton protested in a hoarse voice, but Speirs silenced him with a growl and an accusing finger.

“Wrap up, and that’s an order! You have neglected yourself enough for one day, First Sergeant! I can understand a sense of duty and not wasting time at a hospital, but doing rounds in this weather, alone, and in your condition crosses the line into stupidity!”

Lipton’s shoulders slumped under the Captain’s growled accusations, but as he bowed his head, so did Speirs lose some of his steam in a sigh. It was a strange sight sure, Speirs never yelled at Lipton, and having done so seemed to put him off too. 

With a calmer demeanour Speirs approached the couch and sat down next to Lipton. He started to unfold the new blankets and then spread them over Lipton’s lap and around him, smoothing them over his legs and draping one over his shoulders. Lipton allowed him with a deep sigh, only grasping the one blanket put on his shoulders to keep it in place.

“You need to let yourself rest,” Speirs said, his voice a level and calm mutter. “Running around in the cold is only going to make it worse, and that means you’ll be out longer. Pneumonia isn’t to be treated like a little flu either, it’s serious.”

“I know,” Lipton replied begrudgingly, “but there’s so much to do. They need me.”

“I need you,” Speirs argued, anger sparking again and in sharp contrast with the care his hands moved with while wrapping the blankets and fluffing the pillows. “I worry about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lipton said in a tired sigh. 

Speirs flicked his eyes to him for a moment, stern and quiet. “It’s okay,” he muttered in return. “Just rest, First Sergeant.”

As Luz watched, Speirs took Lipton by the shoulders and pressed him down on the pillows. Lipton went down easily but with a groan that sounded pained, then curled up in his place. 

Speirs stayed seated by him, and Luz could no longer see Lipton but heard his rattling breath and the cruel hack of his cough. Speirs leaned over him and his arm moved, and Luz imagined him rubbing Lipton’s back.

Still, Lipton got worse. The cold air certainly hadn’t been good for him, and his fever kept rising in a manner that was alarming to anyone. You didn’t need to be a doctor to see that it was getting worse, but still he didn’t move from the couch. 

Luz wondered if Lipton even could move anymore. The worry took hold, and so he boiled water and looted some honey from the supplies to mix into it, then took it to Lipton. It was a homely trick his grandmother had taught his mother who had then used it for Luz and all his siblings when they were ill, and it didn’t hurt to try it now.

When Luz went to Lipton and knelt down on the floor, he couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. Lipton was mumbling under his breath and kept shifting under the blankets, but Luz couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or not. They flickered, his eyes moving underneath the lids rapidly, and every now and then Lipton opened them just enough that you could see the sickly gleam of the eyeball or the cloudy, unfocused pupil. 

It was a scary sight.

“Hey, Lip,” Luz said gently and set a hand on his arm, “try to drink this, will you?” 

The hand on his arm seemed to settle Lipton for a moment and he took in a shivering, weak breath. He mumbled something unintelligible and curled on his side towards Luz, one sweaty and chilly hand coming to rest on Luz’s hand. 

“Hey, Lip?” Luz said again, giving the man a little shake.

Lipton’s eyes were open a crack, but his pupils didn’t focus on him. His dry lips drew into a small smile though, and he seemed to come to, even if slowly. “Ron,” he whispered, his voice rough like sandpaper.

Luz frowned. “No, it’s George. Come on, buddy, try to drink this. It should help a bit.”

Lipton’s smile faded and he opened his eyes properly. “Oh,” he said. His eyes finally focused on the steaming mug in Luz’s hand that was being offered to him, and finally his thoughts seemed to catch up. He smiled again, then pushed himself up into a half sitting position under the covers. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, anytime, buddy,” Luz said and helped Lipton to take the mug to his lips. It had cooled enough to be consumable, and Lipton drank it all in small sips. He didn’t seem to like drinking it and Luz wondered when he had last eaten anything, but dutifully he gulped until the mug was empty. 

When Luz let go of his arm, Lipton slumped down into the pillows and covers immediately, and something about that was so frighteningly weak that Luz hurried to bundle the blankets on him again. 

“Thanks, Luz,” Lipton mumbled. “My throat feels a little better.” 

“That’s good. That’s great, buddy,” Luz replied in a haste. “I’ll bring you more later.”

“Yeah,” Lipton agreed, his eyelids already slumping shut. “Where’s… Never mind.” 

“Everyone’s okay, you don’t need to worry,” Luz assured.

It took him a moment to remember that Ron was Speirs’ first name. He didn’t care to ponder that one too hard.

If there was another man besides Lipton in the company who didn’t care about Speirs’ reputation and who wasn’t afraid of him, it was Gene Roe. Then again, Speirs could have been the bloody killer in all his horrifying glory and still everyone would have agreed that Roe had seen worse, so that was no wonder.

If anything, Speirs approached and talked to Roe with a unique air of calm and respect no other man pulled out of him – not even Lipton, whom he had taken a liking to. 

The story how Speirs had gone to Roe to request he’d come and take a look at Lipton spread fast, and so did the detail that Roe had flat out told him that he’d have to wait, that he had other things to do and that whatever he could do could wait, and that Speirs had respected that. That had been in the morning, and Roe reported to the CP in the afternoon, having dodged mortars on the way and walked up to Captain Speirs with nothing more than a casual nod.

Seeing Roe there brought on a wave of relief to Luz too. Rationally he knew that Lipton had seen a real doctor already and been given a diagnosis and very clear instructions of what to do – which he was disobeying – and that Roe was just a medic, a soldier just like them but carrying bandages and scissors instead of a weapon, but still his mere presence meant relief. 

Roe strolled up to Lipton’s couch with Speirs close to his heel, crouched on the floor next to him and started to look him over. 

Lipton hadn’t really woken up properly in twenty-four hours. All he could manage to do was to drink some water every few hours, perhaps string together a few words to calm the others, and then fall back onto the pillows to sleep again. 

Roe smiled at him and started going over him with gentle fingers. “Hi there, Carwood,” the medic greeted, tried his temperature, listened to his breathing, felt his chest with his hands and checked the warmth and the colour from his hands and lips.

Speirs hovered back while Roe worked and chatted quietly with Lipton, who was slowly coming to as he was spoken to. Roe managed to wake him up and get him to work with him to make the check-up easier, but when Roe had his ear against Lipton’s bare chest as he took careful, laboured breaths, Lipton’s eyes were at Speirs. 

“I’m fine, just tired,” Lipton assured.

Roe apparently thought he was speaking to him and not to Speirs, or just didn’t care either way. “You’re tired for sure, but that’s because you’re not fine,” he said promptly. “Pneumonia is a nasty disease, First Sergeant. And Captain is right, you need your rest and would get it better in a real bed. You should let him take you there.” 

“How will I work from bed?” Lipton protested.

“How will you work from grave?” Speirs snapped.

Lipton looked up at him miserably, and Roe raised a pacifying hand. 

“That’s enough, Captain,” he said calmly. “I know you care, but that ain’t the right way. C’mere.” 

Speirs huffed in frustration, but when Roe stayed turned to him with his hand raised like in beckoning, he did as he was told and joined Roe on the floor. When he dropped to his knees in front of Lipton, a small smile rose to the man’s lips and his tired eyes gained some of their usual light.

“There,” Roe said, already satisfied.

Speirs was confused. “What?” 

“This is how you’re helping, sir,” Roe explained patiently. “Here,” he added, then calmly took Speirs’ hand in his own and brought it over to Lipton, setting it to his lap.

Speirs looked on stone-faced, his hand stiff where it rested on Lipton. 

Roe wasn’t bothered at all, just gave an encouraging nod and a smile. “My grandmother used to say that the best medicine for pain is the presence of another human. This is how you’ll help him. Ain’t that right, Carwood?”

Lipton had already slumped back into his pillows and blankets and his hand had landed on Speirs’, bringing it to his chest and curling around it. 

Speirs was still stiff as if frozen and clearly caught off guard, like he had gotten more than he had bargained for, but Roe’s kind look calmed even him.

“Let’s fight this nasty bug off and then worry about other things, sir,” Roe said. “We all want First Sergeant Lipton back on his feet, and he’s chosen his friend. Stay here, and if you can, make him eat. Anything he can get down is good, even better if it’s hot. Also lots of water so he doesn’t dehydrate is important with a fever like this. We gotta hope the fever does its job and keep his body strong while it fights.”

“Understood,” Speirs said in a low mutter, his hand still trapped in Lipton’s hold. It seemed that Lipton had drifted off again.

Roe got up from his crouch and stretched a bit. “That’s all I got for you. You gonna be okay now?” 

“Yes. Thank you, Roe. You may go, I’m sure others need you too,” Speirs said, and with a nod Roe strolled out.

Speirs stayed by Lipton’s side, but kneeling on the cold floor didn’t seem too comfortable so he got up and sat on the couch next to him instead. He let the other keep his hand where he was holding it and grasping it still, and simply shifted closer to stay there. 

Lipton’s breath going shallow and difficult in fear of a painful coughing fit kept a worry line on Speirs’ face, and perhaps it was that same worry that kept him fussing over him.

He leaned down for a moment as if to listen to his breathing more closely, then combed his fingers through Lipton’s hair. It had been unwashed for weeks and sweaty, but he brushed it gently off his forehead without caring. Lipton stirred under his touch, his head tilting towards the hand caressing him and his whole body relaxing into the couch. 

Luz decided he was done watching and did the rest of his day’s work sitting on the floor behind the desk.

If Lipton’s illness put a gloom over the entire company, the return of Harry Welsh brought the sun out again. He returned to the ranks with more of a bounce than a limp to his step and the same gap-toothed grin on his face that he flashed at anyone he recognized, and unlike some, he was welcomed. 

Even Lipton’s still continuing fever didn’t damper his joy as if in Harry Welsh’ world First Sergeant Lipton couldn’t die or even suffer, just had a bit of a flu.

It turned out that Harry Welsh was one of those who took a look at Speirs’ stone cold manner and hard eyes and just smiled even when he reached Speirs to his chin with his curly hair helping the matter.

Welsh even laughed at him. Luz witnessed it with his own eyes from his pile of supplies as Welsh and Speirs stood on both sides of Lipton’s sick couch and tried to talk him up to bed.

“What do you mean you can’t get him to bed?” Welsh said and laughed.

Speirs just glared at him with his mouth in a firm line and his arms crossed. “He won’t budge. He insists on working and apparently thinks he can do it from here,” he explained while making frustrated gestures at Lipton, who was out cold for a change.

Welsh took a deep breath and shook his head fondly. “Well, that’s Lip for you. I certainly know another very dedicated man who’s like that. Lucky for us, this one is not six feet tall with limbs like a baby horse’s legs. Come on, give me a hand.”

It was clear that Welsh wanted to bodily move Lipton, but even if Lipton wasn’t six feet tall, he was as tall as Speirs, so taller than Welsh, and built sturdily with plenty of muscle to drag them both down. Still, even if slightly more slender in built, Speirs had an attitude to match just about anyone, and as someone who had hovered there making honey tea and fluffing pillows and piling blankets for a few weeks too, Luz knew that at that point Speirs probably wanted nothing more than to throw Lipton over his shoulder and force him to rest.

So together with Welsh, they shook Lipton awake and started to pull him up, each taking him by an arm or shoulder and hauling him up.

Lipton groaned when he was disturbed, and his fever was still running high enough that he didn’t get himself under control right away. His arms hung limply as he was handled and his head turned languidly from side to side as he took in his surroundings, his hair sticking up from one side and trying to figure out why he was sitting up all of a sudden.

Then his eyes happened on Speirs as he was pulling his arm over his own shoulder, and his confused frown melted into a flushed smile.

“Oh, you,” he sighed and rested his forehead on Speirs’ for a second. His voice was very weak and hoarse, words barely making it out of his sore throat. 

“Yeah, me,” Speirs answered drily.

Welsh just laughed as he pulled Lipton’s other arm over his shoulder. “Yeah, keep him talking. He likes that.”

“Right,” Speirs muttered, hoisting the man better against him and grabbing a hold of his waist. “You’re going to get back to sleep soon, don’t worry.”

Lipton didn’t seem to hear, nor he did seem to notice he was being hauled up. All he had eyes for was Speirs’ face very close to his own. It didn’t seem that he was able to focus too much on anything, but his eyes did dart over Speirs’ face and didn’t look away. His small smile stayed on too, and something about it was so tender and unguarded that Luz almost couldn’t bare to look at it. It didn’t belong to the stern, stand-up Segreant he knew, the man who had stood countless shellings and kept his head cool through hell. This was someone else.

Speirs and Welsh counted to three, then stood up bringing Lipton up with them. Miraculously Lipton found his feet under him and stood up instead of hanging limply in their hold, but still kept looking at Speirs’ face.

“Your eyes…” he said in a contemplative manner.

Speirs frowned at him. “My eyes?” 

“Yeah. So… Sparkly. And green. I didn’t know… They were green,” Lipton said half out loud like very deep in thought, but his eyes never leaving Speirs’, “Pretty.”

Speirs was very clearly at loss of words, just blankly staring at the First Sergeant who had no idea of the awkwardness he was causing but simply sighed, his head tilting and that small smile staying on. 

On the other side, Harry Welsh burst into laughter and started to drag Lipton into the direction of the stairs. “Sure, Lip! You just keep admiring those eyes and shuffle your feet this way while you’re at it!” 

Speirs sputtered something, trying to be angry while also trying to keep his hold of Lipton and not upset him, but Welsh didn’t care for anything he had to say, and his laughter echoed in the corridors of the house even when they managed to drag Lipton up the stairs and towards the readily made bed somewhere in the officers’ quarters. 

When they came down fifteen minutes later, Luz was finished with the day’s work at the CP and was ready to hand his report in and go to the radio to check on it, take some notes and be debriefed, then go back to first platoon where he bunked. He suspected that Speirs in his never-ending worry and possessiveness had made Lip’s bed in his own room, and while Luz would have never in a million years gone there, he was starting to trust the CO where the health and safety of the First Sergeant came in.

If Captain Speirs had a curious attachment to First Sergeant Lipton, one that said First Segreant didn’t mind terribly much, then so be it. He could leave them at it. Luz might not have understood all of it, but if Lipton felt safe and trusted Speirs, Luz could do the same.

It was infuriating not to know all the details, but Luz had a feeling he didn’t even really want to know, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have understood. The officers also had clearly something going on between themselves, and Luz didn’t want to intrude on them to ask. 

Still, even if Speirs’ grim sulk was nothing new and his face was flushed in anger, Welsh was sniggering in light-hearted amusement. Something about it settled Luz’s nerves.

“You should go say hi to Winters. He’s worried about you,” Speirs noted to Welsh, who was still grinning at him.

“I’ll go, I’ll go. And you?”

Speirs shrugged, grumbled something and rubbed his flushed, stubbly face. He looked tired, Luz noticed all of a sudden. “I’ll go hunt for some old folk’s tricks to the illness. Cognac would do, maybe something hearty to eat too. That’s what my grandmother would do,” he said then.

Welsh made a thoughtful sound. “Well, if anyone can snoop out fine booze and a steak or cake here, that’s you. Happy hunting,” he said almost seriously, but then a smirk broke out on his face again. “Sparky.” 

Speirs gave a deep, exhausted sigh and glared at Welsh, who only laughed back, then out of the door went the both of them.

Luz waited for a few minutes before leaving too. This was once again those things he didn’t want to be spotted listening in on. If anything, in his opinion Captain Speirs should have started to take care of his reputation himself if he wanted to keep it.


End file.
